


The Hunter

by rinthegreat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Bounty Hunter!Lance, Bounty Hunters, Bounty!Shiro, IN SPACE!, M/M, Shiro Big Bang 2017, not sure if the violence counts as graphic but i tagged just in case, that's a real tag i didn't make that up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12600084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: By all rights today should be the best day of Shiro’s life. He’d become champion of the arena the night before,andhe’d managed to escape the same night. Today is his first day of freedom after eight years of imprisonment and torture. He’d never thought he’d be free again. But the moment he’s longed for is marred by the signs with the wordsWanted: 10 Million Ruplesplastered all over it and the banging outside the door of the apartment he’s barred himself in.





	The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long time coming but here is my first of two [Shiro Big Bang](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/) fics! My artists for this are [kuiper](https://kuiperdraws.tumblr.com/) and [neroli](https://oligreyart.tumblr.com/) who were both absolute pleasures to work with. Please check out their art after you're done reading! You might notice that their art is featured in the fic itself as well. I hope you enjoy that, but please **do not repost their art**. Instead, please reblog from the links in the end notes.
> 
> As usual, this was betaed by my perfect, patient, talented beta [thislittlekumquat](http://thislittlekumquat.tumblr.com/). What a champ!

The worst day of Shiro’s life was his first day in the gladiator arena. He’d been scared and lonely and when they let him out into the ring, he’d thought for a brief moment that he was free. But when his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw where he was, what he was being forced to do, all that hope faded. He’d refused to fight at first, but a brief friend – another prisoner – died as a result of it. After that he never refused again.

The second worst day of Shiro’s life was when he was seventeen years old. He’d been captured while wandering in the desert outside town and was taken as a prisoner to the Galra Empire. At first, he hadn’t understood what was happening. One minute he’d been walking home from school, the same way he always did. The next he was trapped in a dark ship surrounded by similarly confused aliens. That was the last time he’d seen his home.

Today is the third worst day of Shiro’s life. It deserves a slot of honor, but it doesn’t quite compare to the first and second days. Yet.

By all rights, today should be the _best_ day of his life. He’d become the first prisoner to win against all his opponents in the arena – earning the creative name of Champion – just the day before. He had defeated the resident Prison Killer in the ring and managed to escape the same night, two seemingly impossible tasks.

Today is his first day of freedom after eight years of imprisonment.

Eight years during which he’d been forced to battle monsters and other prisoners.

Eight years of torture under the guise of science.

Eight years where his only way of tracking days had been the scratches on the wall and an estimation of time based on the Earth calendar.

He’s outfitted with an advanced cybernetic arm, to replace the stub that his original, flesh one had become after one particularly challenging gladiator match. His face is marred with a distinctive scar across the bridge of his nose, another gift from the arena. Those along with his stress-whitened bangs are his most distinctive features. Shiro’s yearned to rid himself of them since he’d gotten them, to purge the memories along with the imperfections.

In fact, that was the first thing he’d planned to do once he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. His contact, the alien who had arranged for his escape, had someone for him. They’d been disappointed to know that Shiro wanted to rid himself of the things that made him the Champion, but to Shiro this was the best way. It would both help him disappear off the radar _and_ enable him to look at his reflection again without remembering the horrors of his past.

He was set up to have a meeting with his benefactor in the morning, followed by a quick disguise and plans for a more permanent change. Given today’s technology neither would take long. It should be easy, right?

Wrong.

So, _so_ wrong.

“Knock knock. ~” The singsong voice comes from outside the apartment he’s barricaded himself in. He has no idea how they found him so fast, but he thinks it might have something to do with the _Wanted: 10 million Ruples_ signs plastering his face all over creation. It’s turned into a manhunt in less than 12 hours.

Less than 12 hours and he already has blood dripping down his left arm – his still-fully-human arm – and a bounty hunter on his trail.

For a moment, he wonders if any of this is worth it. He’d been fed, clothed, and somewhat cared for in the arena. Earning the title of Champion would’ve come with a suite, a real bed, and food that wasn’t spooned out of a disease ridden pot. But then he remembers: out here he might be running for his life, but he’s _free_.

And it is definitely worth it.

But it won’t be worth it if he can’t make it out of here alive.

Shiro looks around, taking stock of his surroundings while his pursuer shuffles around outside. There’s a window diagonally off to his right; he could jump out…

If he’s ok plummeting several hundred stories to his death. In retrospect, maybe agreeing to a room on the 246th floors wasn’t his best idea.

He needs a different plan. Hell, he’d just escaped a Galran slave prison. He’s bound to figure his way out of this new mess; he just needs to _think_. Something similar to before maybe.

His mind flashes back to his captivity. He’d been trapped in a prison worse than this building. The bars were designed so the prisoners couldn’t escape, no matter how many enhancements they were given. The floor was uncomfortable, and food only came to the people who fought for it in the arena.

He’d never thought he’d really escape.

A rich alien, someone he’d never seen before in his life, had slipped in to visit him prior to his last match. Contrary to what he expected, they didn’t want to partake in their own pleasure or cause him pain to try and push the match in their favor (or enhance him for the same reason, which was infinitely worse). No, they came to offer a proposal: he survives through the next match, and they’ll ensure his escape.

The door blasts inward before Shiro can move. He jumps, immediately going to his backup plan – jump out the window and hope for the best. He races towards it, wishing he’d hidden closer. The window is within reach when he hears the snap behind him.

He leaps, fingers catching on the sill before the net closes around him. In a panic, he activates his arm, slicing at the net. But the tech is similar to what the Galra had in the prison; it’s too strong for his arm to slice through easily. He might have a chance if he hacks at the same spot over and over, but the net is grabbed from near his feet then he’s being dragged across the floor.

He claws at the net anyway, trying to reach through the small gaps, grab onto anything on the ground, but it’s no use. Whoever’s dragging him gets him easily out of the apartment and drags him across the hall despite his struggling. Shiro feels cool air through the net before it’s cut off and he’s locked inside a ship.

The only reason Shiro knows it’s a ship is because of the cold, metal floor – starkly different than the concrete of the apartment’s hallways – he feels through the net and the slam of a door, leaving him in darkness.

Shiro doesn’t know how long they fly, just that they are flying. He feels the jerk as they take off, the turbulence as they breach the atmosphere, and the smoothness as they enter space. He tries to hack through the net for a little bit, but it’s a halfhearted attempt; even if he can get out, he’s not sure where he’d go.

Back on Earth he’d been training to be a pilot before he’d been taken, but unless he can get a better view of the ship, he doesn’t want to take out the only person who can fly it right now. Besides, he doubts this alien ship works the same as the Earth ships he learned on.

So instead he waits.

He sleeps for a little while, drifting off due to the sheer _boredom_ of it all – not a single beating or shouted insult like in the prison – but is jostled awake when the net is dragged again. He feels the clench and sudden loosen at his feet, hears the tap-tap of shoes against the floor, then the tell-tale bang of a door slamming shut.

Shiro pushes the net off himself, shoving it to the side as he looks around the ship for the first time. He’s in a cage, which doesn’t surprise him, but the surprising part is that it’s large enough for him to lie down horizontally, reach his hands over his head while standing, and even pace a few steps. Honestly, that’s more hospitality than he expected.

The cage is bolted to the floor around him, and looking around he determines he’s in a cargo-hold. Around him are crates and boxes and…frankly it doesn’t look like the inside of what he’d expect the ship belonging to a bounty hunter would look like.

That just piques his curiosity further.

Unfortunately – or fortunately – his captor seems to have left him alone in the cage, alone in the cargo hold entirely, giving Shiro time to plan. The cage, he notices almost immediately, without even needing to touch it, is made of the same material the Galra kept him trapped in. In other words, he can’t cut it with his hand.

First thing’s first, he needs to get a better gage of his surroundings. What does he have that he can use to aid his escape?

A survey of the cage he’s in reveals, aside from the net he’d come in, a box and a bucket. The bucket…well, he knows what that’s for. But the box? Shiro approaches it cautiously. Aside from the capture part, his captor – bounty hunter, whatever – hasn’t done anything deliberately cruel. Even the capture itself wasn’t any more rough than necessary.

But it could just be to lull him into a false sense of security.

Shiro picks up the net by its corner. It’s no stick, but it’ll have to do. He tosses it at the box, flinching back when it hits.

Nothing happens.

Still not convinced, he approaches it, activating his Galra-Tech arm. He reaches out, using one finger to poke a hole into the side. It melts, but nothing more complicated than that happens. So he deactivates his hand and pushes it out of the way, just in case it’s a weight-based trap.

Still nothing.

Convinced that nothing is going to immediately kill him upon picking up and opening the box, Shiro finally approaches it, flicking the lid open.

It’s food.

No dart flies up to clip him in the face – not that he’s looking down at it directly anyway – no gas seeps out from the lid, no spikes appear in the floor. Just food.

Regardless, Shiro doesn’t trust it. It could be poisoned, after all. He didn’t read his bounty carefully enough if he was wanted dead or alive or either, and he’s not going to risk it now. So despite his growling stomach, he ignores the food and instead focuses on finding a way out.

About a varga later and he thinks he has it. Whoever captured him is smart. Smart enough to find him, figure out a way capture him, make a cage he can’t cut with his tech-arm, and not give him things he can use as weapons.

But they weren’t smart enough to not give him a metal box with his food.

As quietly as he can, Shiro uses his Galra arm to slice three pieces off the box: two are shaped to make a lock-pick, while the third is sharpened into a knife. His plan is to get out of the cage, hide until the captor comes back, then sneak into the cockpit and judge if it’s something he can fly or if he’ll need to force the bounty hunter to do it for him. It’s not the best plan, but it’s simple and easy to adapt no matter what happens.

Shiro is doing his best to be quiet and it seems to work; the bounty hunter doesn’t come into the room at all while he works. There must be no cameras in here; a small blessing.

Another blessing comes in the form of his arm. He hates it more than any other scar he was given in the arena. Mostly because it had become useful in the ring while everything else is just a scar, a blemish on his skin and memories. But in times like this, when he can heat up metal hot enough to bend the shape with the same hand quicker than most blacksmiths could dream of working, it’s almost worth it.

He tucks the makeshift knife into his belt and approaches the door of the cell, kicking the net towards it to make sure it won’t shock him. It doesn’t.

The lock picks easily. Almost too easily. Some things about this capture seem like the bounty hunter is a pro, but other things – the cage in the cargo hold, the metal box for his still uneaten food – make Shiro think it’s an amateur playing dress up.

The cage door creaks a little as it opens, and Shiro pauses, holding his breath.

Silence.

He breathes out in relief and steps out of the cage. Still nothing happens to him. He’s starting to develop a strange mix of relief and unease at how well this escape is going. Now all he has to do is –

“Drop the knife.”

The sound of a blaster accompanies the voice, coming from directly behind him, and Shiro freezes. He’s seen too many good people die at the business end of a blaster to risk flailing out. Automatically, he takes the knife out of his pants and drops it with a clatter on the ground, holding both hands above his head – deactivated – to prove he’s not going to fight back. He considers dropping to his knees to prove he won’t run either, but the voice speaks again, loud enough to be heard over his pounding heart.

“Now turn around.”

He obeys that order as well, turning as he hears the bounty hunter take a few steps back, out of his reach.

And drops his jaw.

“You’re a human?” He gasps, unable to stop himself.

The man – because Shiro can see it’s a man now – gestures back to the cage with the blaster. “Go on. Back in there.”

He hesitates, not really wanting to, but does as the man says.

“Kick the box and net out,” the man instructs, leaving no room for argument.

Once again, Shiro does as he’s told. Once anything he could use as a weapon is taken away, the man slams the cage door shut again, taking out the lock pick and pocketing it. He picks up the box and pauses, looking back up at Shiro. “You didn’t want the food?”

The bounty hunter seems…sad, which is strange. Why would he feel anything from Shiro not eating the food?

“It might be poisoned,” he points out.

The man frowns. “Why would I poison you? I wouldn’t get the bounty.”

So that answers that question. “Oh.” His stomach growls, and the man grimaces.

“Just take it,” he says, tossing the rations back, while still holding onto the box itself.

Shiro catches it. “Thank you.” But when he looks up the man is already turning away. “Wait –“

The bounty hunter ignores it, slamming the door to the cargo bay behind him, leaving Shiro once again alone with his thoughts.

\---

The bounty hunter returns the next morning, waking Shiro as his cell door closes with a slam. Shiro startles awake, looking around himself as it takes a moment for him to remember where he is.

“Wait!” He calls after the hunter. He has so many questions, not least of which is: why would you capture a fellow human?

The bounty hunter pauses, shoulders tensing. Shiro remembers his shoulders seizing up in the same way – prepped for a blow he knew would strike at any moment. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t turn. Just stands there, waiting for Shiro to talk. “Who are you?” He almost smacks himself at how stupid the question is.

He could swear he hears a snort from the man, but he still doesn’t turn. “I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, as if that’s the only thing there is to answer. He walks away without giving Shiro a chance to react.

\---

“At least tell me where you’re from,” Shiro asks, nearly a week into their journey.

For the first time, the bounty hunter actually pauses. “Earth.”

Shiro hadn’t really thought he’d answer, but now that he has he feels the need to push for more – to learn more about this man who put collecting a bounty over his own species. “I am too,” he supplies.

The hunter snorts. “Most humans still are.”

Shiro’s been gone for so long – too long to know what the situation outside the Empire is really like. It can’t be good, especially judging by the crease of the man’s frown. “Where on Earth?” He keeps his tone light, not wanting to scare the man.

“Cuba. Near Veradero beach.”

“I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s lovely” – actually Shiro has no idea where he’s talking about – “do you have family there?”

The man’s nostrils flare, and he turns and glares sharply in Shiro’s direction. “Talking to me about my family isn’t going to help you escape,” he growls.

“No I –“

But it’s too late. The man’s already gone.

\---

The next few times Shiro is fed, it’s when he’s asleep. He wakes up the same as the first time – to the sound of the cell door being shut. He always shouts out questions, just like before, but the man goes back to ignoring them, making Shiro watch his back as he walks away.

He has no idea how much time has passed, but he thinks it’s been about a week. A week in captivity without being forced to fight or being fed only enough to keep him alive. If it weren’t for the cage and the silent treatment, Shiro would’ve thought this was part of the plan to help him escape.

Shiro stops trying to talk to his captor, instead eating his food quietly once the man leaves. So it comes as a surprise when the man talks to him again.

“Hey.”

Shiro blinks up from his food, seeing the hunter scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish of all things. “Um…hey?”

“I don’t know if my family’s still on Earth.”

It takes Shiro a moment to remember the shreds of awkward conversation they’d had several days ago. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been there in a while.”

“Me neither.”

He swears he sees the bounty hunter grin as he walks away.

\---

Things get easier after that.

The bounty hunter seems to relax around him, at least a little. Shiro wonders if he’s bored – or possibly lonely, given that Shiro’s never seen another person on the ship – because he starts to bring his own meals in, eating them with Shiro. He never enters the cage, always stays a careful distance away, but it’s a step in the right direction.

At least, when Shiro’s goal is to be released.

Sometimes they talk, share little stories about things that don’t hit too many bad triggers. It’s hard, finding topics that don’t make the bounty hunter clam up. He’s close lipped about personal topics, and Shiro doesn’t want to bring up anything related to the Galra. So instead, he asks about planets the man has visited, things he’s seen in space.

He mostly pipes up about the food and beauty habits of different planets, shallow things like that. But it loosens him up. Sometimes Shiro catches a glimpse of a smile from the man. Whenever he does, the air gets sucked right out of his chest, as if he’d been slammed with a bat.

Shiro knows what’s happening. He may not have felt this way for a long time, but he’s no idiot. He knows what the stuttering of his heart means. That the flush down the back of his neck is related to the appearance of the bounty hunter.

He knows falling for the bounty hunter is the worst idea he’s had in his soon-to-be-cut-short life.

\---

“What were you called before they called you Champion?” The hunter asks one night, leaning back against the boxes.

The way the artificial light casts shadows against his skin make him look like something out of a dream. Shiro thinks the best backdrop for him would be a galaxy filled with stars.

“My real name’s Takashi Shirogane. But my friends call me Shiro.”

The man hums, not saying anything back. “Why Shiro?”

Shiro frowns, not having expected that question. He taps his metallic fingers against the floor, thinking. “Um I guess because it’s easier? When you’re a kid Shirogane’s a mouthful.”

“Why not your first name then?”

“Tradition.” In reality, he hasn’t thought about it in a long time. No one’s called him Takashi in a long time – not since his parents.

Silence falls between them, but it’s getting easier than before. Shiro watches the bounty hunter as he sits, fidgeting with his pants. It’s strangely endearing, especially when a lock of hair falls forward into his face. Shiro wants to push it away, brush it behind the man’s ear. He imagines it would be soft…almost as soft as the man’s skin.

But that could just be the Stockholm syndrome talking.

Fuck, eight years of captivity, then some random person kidnaps him and shows him an ounce of kindness and all of the sudden Shiro’s tripping over himself writing mental poetry for the guy. He doesn’t even know his _name_.

“What do they call you?”

The man’s head snaps up, eyes meeting his. He stares at Shiro for a moment before a smirk forms across his lips. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “Depends who you mean by _they_.”

“Your friends.”

“Don’t have a lot of those anymore.”

“The Galra then.”

“You want my title?”

Shiro shrugs. “I’d rather have your real name if I’m gonna be stuck in here.”

The bounty hunter chews his lip, as if seriously considering the question. “…Lance.”

Shiro blinks. “What?”

“My name. It’s Lance.”

His heart has clearly not gotten the message that it shouldn’t speed up just over the knowledge that the bounty hunter – Lance, he knows now – would trust him enough with his name. It could be a fake name after all. Or his call sign or title or whatever.

“Lance. I like it.”

Lance smiles, dropping his head a little. It’s the first honest smile Shiro’s seen from him – seen from anyone, really. Shiro thinks he might not be the only crazy one here, because he can swear he sees a blush rising on Lance’s cheeks. And maybe, just maybe, if the guy likes him, he won’t be so willing to turn him into the Galra.

So it can’t hurt to give into this feeling just a little bit.

\---

“I was kidnapped,” Shiro tells him one evening while they share their meal. Lance is on the other side of the bars, leaning back against the boxes like he usually does.

“I think most of us were, actually.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “Us?”

Lance brandishes his spoon, splattering a few drops of the green goop they’re having tonight – a cross between soup and oatmeal if he has to call it something – across the floor. “Yeah. You know, humans. Not just humans actually. Other…people. Aliens. Not Galra.”

“There are more?” In retrospect, Shiro should’ve known that there would be more human captives – that he isn’t special in any way. That the Galra didn’t capture him as the start of some story where he becomes the hero.

But that’s not what he’d told himself all those years back, when he’d been taken. _It must be for a reason_ , he repeated every night before bed, every morning when he woke up starving, every day when he both prayed to never be thrust into the arena but at the same time _needed_ the food that was only offered to those who survived a battle.

“Oh yeah, tons more,” Lance continues, oblivious to all going on in Shiro’s mind. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only human taken from Earth when they came for me.”

The words click inside Shiro’s mind, slower than they really ought to. “Wait. You were taken by the Galra?”

Lance raises both eyebrows at him. “Well…yeah? Duh? Who else goes around the universe forcibly converting people to their empire?”

“But you’re turning me in! Aren’t you working for them?” The information suddenly seems vitally important. Shiro sits up, tossing his dinner to the side.

Lance winces at the outburst and – unless he’s projecting – looks a little chastised. “Kinda. I don’t work for them. Or with them. I just…I just need the money, ok?”

“You need the _money_?” All his good feelings towards Lance disappear. This bounty hunter is nothing more than that: a bounty hunter. He kidnapped Shiro for the prize on his head.

Lance stands up, tucking his food away. “Yes.” That’s all he says before disappearing again.

\---

Shiro regrets exploding at him. He’s stuck alone in the cage again, dying from boredom. Lance had said he needs the money, but he hadn’t said why. So the next time Lance comes in, Shiro greets him, hoping that the bounty hunter will take it as an apology.

He does.

\---

 

“How did you get out?” Shiro asks one night. Lance is sitting closer to the cage than normal. If there were no bars between them, Shiro could almost reach out and touch him. He’s scared by how much he wants to do just that.

Lance leans a little closer, as if thinking the same thing. “We were on transit. One prison ship to another, you know how it was.” Sadly, Shiro does know exactly what Lance means. He can remember the prison ships – packed full of people taken from different planets, unable to understand each other or what was happening. Not all of them knew what was going on, and more than one transfer resulted in less prisoners – a few still bodies – when they got to the next stop.

He hums, encouraging Lance to continue. “Some rebels got a hold of the ship. We didn’t know what was going on, just that there was suddenly a lot of turbulence and then the ship changed direction. They didn’t let us out ‘til we arrived and gave us a choice: join them or go into hiding.”

“So what did you do?”

Lance raises an eyebrow at him. “I joined them, obviously.”

“How is that obvious?”

“You seriously haven’t looked around yourself?”

Shiro frowns, taking the time to just do that. All around him are boxes, cargo like he’d noticed from before. Nothing about it seems special to him in any way. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t see the label?”

Shiro gets up this time, walking to the far end of the cage, where a canister is closest, label facing him. “Galra Empire?”

“Yeah.”

“So…you smuggle this?” Shiro asks, still not certain he understands.

“I guess you have been in the arena for a while, so it wouldn’t make sense to you.” Shiro comes back sitting closer to the bars. He imagines he can feel Lance’s body heat radiating off him. “Those are weapons.”

“What?”

“Well they’re gas canisters. Can be weapons. Would be weapons if the rebels didn’t take them. Might be rebel weapons in the future. We’ll see.”

“You don’t know what they’re taking them for but you’re giving them to the rebels anyway?”

Lance glares, switching from happy to irritated in an instant. “They broke me out. I’m not going to question their methods.”

Shiro raises his hands. “Hey, I’m not accusing you of anything. Just asking.”

It seems to placate Lance enough that he calms down. “I get it. Seems sketchy coming from me.” He stands up. “I have to check on a few things. Take your time eating.”

Or maybe not so placated at all.

Shiro berates himself when Lance leaves. The situation they’re in isn’t normal – Lance captured _him_ and as far as he can tell Lance still has every intention of turning Shiro in, despite them growing closer throughout the journey. He gets the feeling that Lance has been prolonging the trip – intentionally taking the long way to turn Shiro in.

He just can’t figure out _why_.

\---

Shiro steps back, the same as he always does, when Lance brings him his food. He holds his hands in the air, showing Lance that he doesn’t intend any harm. Lance sets it on the ground and turns to leave, but Shiro can’t hold himself back anymore. “Wait,” he calls out, taking a step closer. Immediately Lance spins around, prepared for a fight. “No,” Shiro assures. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Please…eat with me this time.”

Lance stares at him, eyes piercing through Shiro’s very soul with their intensity. “Stay where you are.”

The bounty hunter backs out of the cage, closing and locking the door afterwards. Shiro barely has a chance to slump his shoulders before the door scrapes open again. “Keep your hands up,” Lance warns, approaching him with a shackle. Shiro’s heart sinks, but he doesn’t have a choice.

He stays still as Lance attaches it around his ankles. The bounty hunter disappears behind him and Shiro hears another click as the other side is locked into place on the bars. Lance leaves the cage again, keeping the door open this time, and when he returns it’s with a plate of food in his hands.

“Sorry,” he explains, sitting down. “I can’t risk you escaping.”

“No, I get it.”

They take a seat – Shiro awkwardly trying to get comfortable with the new addition of the chain – and devolve into silence. It’s strange, that removing the bars created awkward silences, breaking the easy cadences they’d fallen into. Shiro focuses on his food instead – green goop again – letting the scrape of his spoon against the bowl fill the space between them.

“How did you escape anyway?” Lance asks finally, breaking the silence.

“You mean how did I get the bounty on my head?”

“No I think I know how that happened.”

“Really,” Shiro deadpans.

“You became their Champion,” Lance explains. Shiro snorts. “No I’m serious. You couldn’t see it because you were in the arena but…you’re kinda an inspiration to a lot of people out here. Put them in a tough position. But then you had to go and break out.”

“I didn’t break out,” Shiro interrupts before Lance can say anything more embarrassing. “Someone else did it for me. Told me to go free.”

Lance gazes at him thoughtfully before pushing his bowl to the side. “So I take it you didn’t kill those other prisoners on your way out either.”

Shiro’s blood runs cold. “What?”

“That’s the story going around.”

He shouldn’t be surprised. They stole him from his home, kept him as a prisoner, forced him to fight in their arena for entertainment. Of course they would steal any credibility he might’ve had, just to turn the universe against him.

“I counted the ticks,” Shiro finally tells him. “The guard rotations are very specific. Once they got me out of the cell I just avoided them, got in the shuttle they had prepped, and flew off.”

“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

“It wasn’t.”

Lance snorts.

\---

Shiro thinks Lance might be adding meals, snacks and such in between, because he comes by more often and stays longer. Lance continues to join him in the cage, locking Shiro’s ankles up first before joining him. To his surprise, they get along pretty well, better than he thought he’d get along with someone taking him in for the reward money.

“Am I your first bounty?” He asks one day.

Lance pauses in his meal. “Not really.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. Here, he’d thought that Lance hated the Galra, that for some reason he’s the first one Lance has taken for them. He hates that he wants that.

Lance sighs. “I’ve collected bounties a few times before. Criminals and such. Usually smaller time, wanted by the local government or whatever. I don’t usually collect for the Galra. You’d be the first.”

“Yeah? What makes me so special?” He’s been dying to know – wondering for weeks.

But Lance chews his lower lip and doesn’t give him an answer, so Shiro ends up changing the subject. “Are you the only one on the ship?”

“Why? Planning to off me and take it for yourself?” Lance teases.

“Oh yeah. Think I might take it for a spin.”

“Joyride?”

“Something like that,” Shiro agrees with a soft chuckle. The first time he’s done anything remotely close to laughing in years.

A switch flips between them at the way Lance looks at him. There’s a heat in his eyes Shiro had thought he’d only imagined through the bars. The air feels thicker around him, making it suddenly hard to suck in air, and just this once, Shiro gives in to the bad idea that’s been building since he first laid eyes on Lance.

“Wouldn’t be much fun if I had to go alone,” he murmurs, leaning closer.

 “Oh yeah? And who would you want with you?” Shiro hadn’t known Lance’s voice could come out that husky.

With a resounding _fuck it_ , Shiro drags his tongue over his lower lip, wetting them. Lance’s eyelids fall to half mast, gaze dropping to Shiro’s mouth. “Who do you think?” He asks, surprised his voice comes out at all.

Lance groans, apparently already impatient with this game and lunges for him. Shiro meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and pulling him in. The momentum of it propels Shiro backwards, and he lands on his back with Lance on top of him as their lips seal together.

He lets out his own groan at the contact. He’d been burning for it, touch starved and infatuated with the guy holding him prisoner. Lance’s fingers press against his temples on both sides, threading themselves into Shiro’s hair, nails first. It’s just on the right side of the line between pain and pleasure, forcing a gasp from Shiro’s mouth.

He wants more, so much more. Years he’s been trapped as a prisoner, no desire or ability to do anything, and it’s as if all the flood gates have been opened at once. He slides his hands up Lance’s back, rucking up his shirt with the movements. Lance trembles when the cold metal hits skin, but Shiro’s more interested in what his human hand can feel.

Despite being a smuggler or a bounty hunter or a rebel or whatever he is, Lance’s skin is smoother than silk. Far more perfect than his scarred skin.

Shiro tries to stay gentle, but Lance bites down on his lip, sucking it between his teeth, and Shiro can’t stop. He gives a full body shudder and flips them around, pinning Lance to the floor with a grunt. They break apart for barely a second before Lance is pulling him back down, and their lips crash together again.

Their hands are everywhere: Lance pushes and pulls Shiro’s shirt this way and that as he grabs at his arms, shoulders, back, while Shiro takes the time to explore the skin on Lance’s stomach and chest, needing to know if it’s as smooth as his back. It is. His Galra hand brushes over Lance’s nipple on its journey to his shoulder and Lance lets out a _whimper_.

Possessiveness rears its ugly head inside him, and Shiro lets out a growl. He moves his lips down, to mark Lance, claim him, setting to work on his neck first. Lance continues to make noises, breathy gasps and moans that echo in Shiro’s head. He gets a good mark where Lance’s neck and shoulder meet, sealing it with a kiss. Shiro’s moving to tackle the other side when Lance grabs a fistful of his bangs and tugs him up.

“Wait,” Lance breathes, pupils blown wide. Shiro is never leaving this ship. “Wait,” Lance repeats.

His hair is a mess, shirt gathered up just over his chest. There’s a flush high in his cheeks, and already the area Shiro had marked is starting to swell. In short, this will fuel Shiro’s wet dreams for a long time to come.

Shiro keeps himself still on his elbows, forcing himself to calm down. But it’s hard when his stomach presses against Lance’s with every inhale.

Eventually, the blood rushes back up to his brain, and Shiro lets out a groan, dropping his head to Lance’s shoulder. “That was a mistake, wasn’t it?” He murmurs against Lance’s skin.

Lance chuckles, breathless and hoarse. “Undoubtedly,” he agrees, brushing his fingers up and down against Shiro’s buzz cut. He’s too free, too careless to be a bounty hunter. Had they met under any other circumstance, Shiro would’ve locked him away to protect him from the horrors of reality.

He still kinda wants to.

Reluctantly, Shiro rolls off him, laying down on his back next to Lance. If he closes his eyes and doesn’t move his legs at all, he can pretend they’re lying on a rooftop somewhere, staring at the stars rather than being trapped in a cage, captor and captive.

Shiro throws his arm over his eyes, fighting down the frustration at all of it. The confusion and unfairness and…what the fuck going through him all at once. Why did he have to be captured by _Lance_? Why couldn’t it have been some scary alien who dumped him right back in the arena with no conversation, no growing trust, no romantic – or sexual – tension.

“They have my sister.”

Shiro peeks out from under his arm, side-eyeing Lance. He’s lying there, staring up at the ceiling, hands folded over his still naked stomach. The lines on his face seem longer somehow. Shiro rolls onto his side, propping himself on his arm as he looks down at Lance, waiting for further explanation.

“I have to get her back,” Lance continues. His chest shudders, and he brings both hands to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Fuck, Shiro, I’m so sorry. They took her and they said if I brought you in…”

Shiro’s blood runs cold.

Because as hot as that just was, as close as he feels to Lance…if he were in the same situation…if it were Keith’s life or the life of some stranger, no matter how attractive…

There’s no way Shiro wouldn’t turn Lance in. Just like there’s no way Lance won’t turn Shiro in now.

He thinks he might vomit, but instead he rests his hand on top of Lance’s. “Hey.” Lance moves one hand, revealing a bloodshot eye. Shit. “It’s ok. I get it.”

“I can’t let them hurt her. Shiro, I’m…” Lance chokes out a sob, and Shiro’s heard enough.

He leans over, kissing Lance again. This time there’s less heat behind his actions, less urgency. “It’s ok,” Shiro repeats in a whisper as he breaks away. He brushes his thumb underneath Lance’s eye, coming away wet. So he seals that with a kiss too. “It’s ok.”

Shiro escaped the first time. On the good graces of someone else, sure, but regardless, he escaped. Somehow…somehow he’s willing to take this fall for Lance. To go back to the prisons just long enough to save Lance’s sister. He’ll find a way out after that. He will.

Shiro pulls Lance into his chest, staunchly ignoring the stuttering of his heart as Lance cries openly against him. His shirt is getting wet, but he hardly cares, instead rocking Lance back and forth, comforting him.

He doesn’t mean to close his eyes, but Lance’s breathing evens out against him. His chest rises and falls evenly, lulling Shiro to sleep. His eyelids weigh a thousand pounds when he finally lets them fall shut, figuring things can’t get much worse.

 

 

\---

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in a cold sweat. Shiro sits up suddenly, images of the arena – of Keith forced into the arena with him – still appearing with every blink. It takes him a second to remember where he is, eyes darting around himself as he prepares for the attack. It isn’t until he sees Lance sleeping on the floor half a foot away that Shiro remembers. Remembers everything.

He can’t go back to the arena.

He’d thought he could – thought he could take this hit for Lance to get his sister back but…

With a blink, the memory of ripping an alien’s heart from its chest resurfaces, nearly bringing back the vomit which had come immediately after.

He can’t.

Shiro activates his hand, pressing the purple glow against his chains. Nothing. He should’ve known; this is the same material as the rest of the cage. He needs something else. A key or a lock pick or –

Lance has the key.

Shiro only argues with himself for a second before his hand is cold again and he feels through Lance’s pockets, pressure feather light. Lance mumbles a little in his sleep but doesn’t wake up.

The key is in his jacket pocket, and luckily for him it releases his shackles without anything louder than a soft click. He doesn’t hate Lance enough – the opposite actually – to leave him trapped in his own dungeon, so he leaves the key in the lock and slips out of the cage’s open door, not closing it behind him.

The cargo hold is bigger than he’d thought, but Shiro goes the direction he always sees Lance come from and finds the door easily. The ship is larger than he’d expect for a single person, he notes as he slinks down the hallways. His original plan – to overpower his captor and steal the entire ship – gets tossed to the wayside immediately, so he bypasses the door which obviously leads to the bridge. He just needs an escape pod, something small and easy to navigate that he can take down to the nearest planet. He’ll stay under the radar down there for a bit and plan out his next move.

It just means he can’t ever see Lance again.

A few wrong turns and doors later, Shiro finally finds the escape pods. There are a few here, meaning his escape won’t leave Lance helpless in the event of an attack. Small miracles.

He’s just firing up the pod, pulling on a spacesuit when he hears it behind him. The tell-tale sound of a blaster charging up.

Shiro’s heart drops to his stomach.

Reluctantly, he turns around. Lance’s eyes are cold, his face unreadable as he points his gun straight at Shiro’s chest. “So this was your plan all along?”

The betrayal is clear in the flat cadence of Lance’s voice – usually so much more expressive. Shiro hates it. Hates himself for causing it. Hates every moment that led him here, from his birth until now.

“No, I –“ He wants to explain, clear the air. Tell Lance he’ll find another way to save his sister – he’s smart, surely there’s something he can do other than _work_ for the Galra. But Lance cuts him off before he can finish.

“Shut up!” He explodes. “Just…just leave already!”

“What?”

But Lance is already pressing forward, shoving him back into the ready escape pod. “I said just leave!” He spits the words in Shiro’s face, thrusting the helmet against his chest. “And don’t ever come back!”

Shiro opens his mouth to argue, but stops himself this time. Here Lance is, giving him an easy way out. An escape. He shouldn’t argue over it.

So instead he stares right at Lance as he pulls on his helmet and slides the door to the pod shut. Lance’s lower lip is trembling, the only indication he might feel something other than hatred. Regardless, Shiro doesn’t stop the pod’s departure, only half hearing the countdown as he memorizes the exact shade of blue of Lance’s eyes.

He doesn’t look away, even when the pod takes off.

 

 

\---

The escape pod pilots itself to the nearest inhabitable planet. Shiro lets it run on autopilot until it breaks through the atmosphere before he takes control. He steers the pod down, trying to find someplace that doesn’t look inhabited. The planet as a whole is sparse – he doesn’t see signs of civilization anywhere. But he’s already taken control of the pod.

He hasn’t been trained in piloting, certainly not landing, so he plans to turn autopilot back on when he gets close enough.

His plans don’t come through, though. As he gets closer, red flashing lights blink, and a mechanical voice warns him in another language of what must be his impending death.

And autopilot isn’t working.

He hits what he thinks is the brakes as hard as he can, trying to slow his descent. He’s right in the sense that he hit the correct button, but it’s too little too late.

Shiro closes his eyes and braces himself for impact. He hopes it’s quick and painless, the opposite of a death in the arena.

He hopes that Lance can at least find his body and save his sister that way.

He hears the crash a split-second before he feels it. A boom explodes in the air around him, the sound of glass shattering fills his ears. And then he feels it.

His life ends in darkness.

\---

White light shines over his eyes, bright even through his eyelids. He groans but blinks them open, immediately shutting them when the light proves brighter when he looks directly into it. Shocker.

Something pokes his arm, and he shifts away. The light mercifully disappears. Shiro opens his eyes again.

The first thing he notices is the yellow set of eyes peering down at him. The next thing he notices is the purple fur surrounding the eyes.

With a hiss, he pushes himself backwards. He feels the ground drop out from underneath him and falls about three feet before he hits the ground again, air pushing out of his chest. Undeterred, he struggles to pull himself upright.

“Shit, calm down,” a vaguely familiar voice calls out.

He hears rustling and the face appears again, over top what looks like a bed made of stone. Shiro takes a good look around himself, searching for an exit, something familiar. A weapon maybe.

He’s somewhere unfamiliar. The area around him is made of red stone, as if he’s in a cave somewhere. It looks more like someone’s home than a prison, at least, filled with personal belongings he doesn’t recognize.

But that doesn’t make him feel better about the Galra in here with him.

Unable to pull himself up further than his elbows, Shiro pushes himself backwards, away from the Galra. He has yet to see an obvious exit point, but he’ll find one. He just needs a weapon first.

“I’m serious, calm down. You’re gonna hurt yourself more,” the Galra huffs. He steps out from behind the bed, and Shiro notes that he’s shorter than most Galra he’s dealt with. Regardless, he’s still Galra, and Shiro needs to get out of here.

He reaches blindly, hand closing around a small stone. With what energy he can muster, he chucks it, falling back. It hits the Galra in the chest weakly, bouncing off him and down to the ground.

For a moment, they stare at the rock in silence – Shiro with his chest heaving, the Galra incredulously.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The Galra asks, finally looking over at Shiro. And oh, shit. He’s gonna die.

Shiro scrambles back as fast as he can, smacking his head into the cave wall behind him. He groans and collapses in on himself, curling into the fetal position and waiting for the end.

The Galra lets out another hiss and footsteps approach Shiro. His heart pounds against his chest, but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut, reminding himself that he would rather be dead here than be alive in the arena.

Hands grab his shoulders and turn him over, displaying more strength than Shiro would’ve thought possible from a Galra so small. The final blow never comes, so eventually he opens his eyes. The Galra is peering down at him, almost looking concerned. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, earnestly.

But Shiro knows better than to trust a Galra.

The Galra sighs, and then to Shiro’s shock, _shifts_. The fur disappears, the eyes fade from yellow to grey, and soon the man looking at him appears…human.

Not just human. It’s the face of his brother, older than he remembers but still distinctly _Keith_.

“How did you do that?” He croaks, finally finding his voice. Shapeshifter, his mind chants. Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, _donttrusthim_.

The shapeshifter runs a hand – Keith’s hand – through his hair. Black, long. Was that there before? “I’m still your brother,” he tells Shiro. “I’m half-Galra.”

“No. No you’re not. He’s on Earth.”

The Galra looks about ready to pull his hair out. “Shiro, seriously. It’s me. Keith.”

“You’re lying.”

“We were looking for cryptids the day you disappeared. I think you were just doing it to placate me, because I insisted there was a bigfoot print in the backyard. You realized you’d forgotten to send in your application to the Garrison’s space program and ran out to hand it in in person. Then you never came back.”

Shiro hadn’t told anyone that. Hadn’t even _thought_ of that since he’d been taken. No one but Keith could know that. “I made the footprint in the dirt,” he confesses, eight years too late. “I was just messing with you.”

Keith backs up, finally giving Shiro space. “I know,” he holds his hand out. Warily, Shiro takes it. He struggles upright, collapsing forward onto Keith’s shoulder. Keith grunts under him but doesn’t stumble. Instead, he takes Shiro back to the rock bed and lays him down.

“How did you crash on this planet?” Keith asks as he steps away, rummaging around his cave.

It’s as if the words are woven with magic. Shiro remembers being broken out, captured, and then…eyes as blue as Earth’s ocean, a smile brighter than the sun. Lance. “Oh god…” He breathes, remembering leaving, the sound of a blaster aimed at his head, Lance shoving him into the pod. He squeezes his eyes shut on impulse, unable to recall anything past entering the atmosphere. “I left him.”

“Left who?”

“ _Lance_ ,” he emphasizes. When Shiro realizes what he just said, his eyes shoot open.

Keith’s glaring at the wall. “Fucking typical.” Well…that isn’t the reaction Shiro expected.

“What?”

“I swear he is out to ruin my life. How he managed to find my long-lost brother is beyond me. If he thinks this is going to make me want to help the rebellion, he’s got another thing coming.”

Shiro blinks. “What?” He repeats, positive that he missed something.

“Lance. You’re talking Lance McClain? Smuggler from Earth? Works for the rebels in a worthless cause against the Empire?”

McClain. Shiro had never known his last name. Somehow it doesn’t fit him at all. Such a plain name for such an interesting man. Shirogane would be suit him better, he thinks wildly.

But that’s probably just the concussion speaking.

“I guess?” He’s pretty positive they’re talking about the same person. “I never caught his last name.”

“Yeah, well, that’s called a one night stand,” Keith grunts. He waves his hand passively. “There aren’t a lot of Lances from Earth flying around freely out here.”

Shiro almost smiles. Almost. But then he remembers: “I need to help him.”

Keith looks horrified. “Absolutely not. I just got you back, Shiro. I’m not going to let you go on some suicide mission with him.”

“The Galra took his sister.”

The change is almost immediate. Keith’s eyes snap to his, wide. All irritation is gone, his body slack rather than tensed like before. “What?” This time it’s him who asks.

“You have to help me get to him, Keith. Please.”

Keith hesitates.

“Please,” Shiro repeats.

“I…Look, Lance doesn’t come around here anymore. And if they have his sister, chances are he’s not gonna stop by before he dives into something without thinking.”

“Then you need to get me to him,” Shiro demands, trying to sit up again. The pain in his side spikes, and he’s forced to lie down again.

“You need to rest. Shiro, you’ve been in the gladiator arena for years. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell of getting in there and getting you out. I am not going to let you throw that away for Lance of all people.”

“Keith, please. I think…I think I might be in love with him.”

Keith just stares at him.

\---

It takes Shiro several hours of begging, but he finally manages to get Keith to give in. He’s sure the only reason Keith gives in at all is because Shiro’s finally capable of walking without help. (And isn’t that a miracle? Whatever the golden liquid is that Keith makes him drink every meal is magical.)

“I have a few friends in the rebellion,” Keith explains as he leads Shiro to the entrance of the cave. “They should be able to find Lance.”

“I told you, Lance isn’t working for the rebellion right now.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll be able to find him.”

Shiro shields his eyes as they step out of the cave. The desert is red and empty as far as the eye can see, the sun beating down on it creating a haze. Almost as soon as Keith shuts the door behind them – a red door that blends into the rock – a strong wind kicks up, blowing dust and dirt into Shiro’s face. “I thought this place was inhabitable,” he coughs, covering his eyes with his arm.

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” Keith counters, shouting to be heard over the noise. He’s just as stubborn, just as _Keith_ as Shiro remembers. He thrusts something into Shiro’s hand. “Here, use this. It’ll help.”

Shiro’s fingers wrap around it – a cloth. He hastily ties it around the back of his head. It helps; he can now breathe without choking. The problem is that he still has to hold his arm in front of his face and stare straight down to keep sand from flying into his eyes. He focuses on the back of Keith’s feet, walking so close he runs into him a few times as they walk.

Keith stops, and Shiro runs straight into him. He hears the distant sound of a door opening before Keith starts walking again. Shiro follows and immediately, the sand stops hitting him. The door closes behind him, and even the sound of the wind disappears. Shiro finally looks up.

Keith is covered in sand, and he’s sure he is too, but that’s not the important part. They’re standing in the bridge of an admittedly small but very real ship. Keith ignores Shiro, shaking himself off and heading to the computers. He flicks switches while Shiro steps forward, taking the seat alongside him, looking around.

He doesn’t know a lot about ships, having spent more of his time in the arena than flying, but even so, he’d have to say that this is an older model. The fact that his brother had managed to somehow get off of Earth without being trapped in a Galra prison _and_ get a hold of a ship is impressive as it is.

“Pidge, come in. Pidge this is code name Samurai. Are you there? Over.”

Shiro turns to watch Keith speak microphone in front of him. He looks like he’s done this several times before. How long had Keith been living out here on his own, searching for Shiro?

Keith waits a few moments before hitting the button again. “Pidge, come in –“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you first time.” A voice crackles around them, cutting Keith off. “What do you need, Keith?”

“I told you not to use my real name.”

“This is a secure line, I encrypted it myself. So tell me, _Keith_ , what do you want?” The speakers aren’t very good, possibly due to the sandstorm outside, but Shiro thinks they might be teasing his brother.

Keith pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to find Lance.”

“Lance has been AWOL for the past month,” a new voice pops up.

“Yeah,” the voice belonging to Pidge agrees. “Besides, don’t you guys hate each other or something?”

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“Can it, Hunk. Let the man answer.”

Silence.

“Keith, you still there?”

“I was waiting for you two to finish arguing.”

“We’re done for now.”

Shiro’s anger spikes. He’s been trapped on this planet for several days now. Chances of him getting back to Lance are decreasing by the minute, and three people arguing over a comm is not helping. “Can you help us find Lance or not?” He snaps as soon as he sees Keith hit the button again.

“Uh…” The second voice, Hunk, speaks first. “Keith? Who is that?”

“That’s Shiro.”

Twin gasps echo in the speakers. “Your brother?”

“Yes. He needs to get back to Lance, can you help us find him or not?” Keith’s voice is tight, his fist clenched on the dash. Shiro knows Keith doesn’t agree with his plan, with what he needs to do, but he’s helping anyway.

“Back to? When did he crash?” Pidge asks, all teasing gone from their voice.

Keith points to the side and Shiro finds a second mic. He grabs it. “I landed here a few days ago. Look, it doesn’t matter. I need to find him –“

“Actually, it does matter.” In the background, he hears the sound of a keyboard clicking. “Because that will give me a better idea of how far he could’ve gotten on his ship.” Oh. That makes sense. “Do you know which direction he was going?”

“He was planning to turn me into the Galra. I’m not sure where.”

Shiro ignores the sharp look he gets from Keith, but it’s harder to ignore the pause in typing from over the comm. “Why,” Pidge starts slowly, “would he be turning you into the Galra?”

Shiro swallows. Now or never. “Because they have his sister.”

He hears a swear over the line. “I knew it,” Hunk declares, “I _knew_ something was wrong when he disappeared! Remember what I said? I said ‘he’s hiding something’. Remember that, Pidge?”

“They must have something on him. That’s the only reason,” Pidge muses, typing starting up again. “He couldn’t have told us, could he?”

“He said if he turned me in, they would release her.”

“They won’t,” Pidge says. “It’s not in their best interests.” The typing starts again, more rapidly. “Well that helps. Now I know where he was and where he was likely headed. Hunk, tell me: would Lance be more likely to abandon quest and ask for help or try to break in and free her himself?”

“You’re joking right?”

“Just wanted to check.”

A beeping sounds from inside their ship. Shiro tenses. “Relax, Keith, that’s just me,” Pidge tells them. Shiro looks over and sees purple fur reappearing over Keith’s body. That’s something that’ll take some getting used to. “I found his ship. You’re gonna have to move fast to get there.”

Something that must be a map is on the dash in front of them, a red dot blinking and moving across the screen. Keith groans, drawing a hand over his face. “You couldn’t have made it easier on me?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you insist on keeping that hunk of junk ship.”

“Whatever.” Keith reaches over, clicking a few buttons. “Buckle up, this is gonna be a bumpy ride,” he warns.

Shiro barely manages to buckle himself into the co-pilot seat before he feels the ship rumble around him precariously. “Are you sure this is safe to fly?”

Pidge or Hunk snort, audible over the speaker. “Yeah, he’s definitely been spending time with Lance,” Pidge snarks.

Keith flips a switch as the two start chuckling again, cutting the sound off. “Hold on.”

With a groan of protest, the ship raises itself up. The screen in front of them fades from black, revealing the scenery. But all Shiro can make out is swirls of dust. He glances over, but Keith doesn’t seem overly concerned about his inability to see. “Should we really be taking off in this?” Shiro asks, nervous.

Keith grits his teeth, sharper than they were before, and Shiro’s thrown back in his seat as the ship takes off. He can’t do anything more than hold onto the armrests for dear life as Keith guides them up and away from the planet, seemingly blindly.

He closes his eyes, forcing the panic down as he reminds himself why he’s doing this. Before he can reach the count of ten, he feels a rumble and his eyes fly open. Around them is darkness and stars. He turns his head, seeing the planet they’d taken off from fall away as they fly. They made it.

Shiro relaxes back in his seat, sighing out in relief, but before he can feel more than that, Keith speaks. “Don’t get too comfortable.” Shiro turns to him, watching as he flips switches as if he’s been flying forever. He probably has. “We’re on an intercept path. I can program the coordinates Pidge gave me into the escape pod, but if you’re not in it in time then you won’t make it.”

Shiro nods, leaning forward. Keith messes around with a few more things, turning his controls, then finally nods at Shiro. “Get in the escape pod. Behind you.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets up. The ship is small, smaller than Lance’s. The escape pods are in the cockpit, one behind each chair. It’s clearly not made for more than two people. Shiro goes to the one meant for him and steps inside. Immediately, the glass closes behind him. He bites down the panic that comes with being contained.

“All you have to do is sit there and not touch anything.” Keith’s voice sounds in the pod. “If you’re going to go through all this to get to Lance, I don’t want something messed up because you thought you were going in too hot.”

That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in him, but it’s also not like Shiro has a choice. “Understood.”

“Oh, and Shiro?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

Before Shiro can respond, the pod shakes around him. In a flash, he’s jettisoned out of the ship leaving his stomach up above.

The pod is moving too fast, but Shiro forces himself not to touch anything. Keith had warned him about it, and he doesn’t want to risk losing this chance. Instead, he looks up out the window, watching the planet and Keith’s ship disappear from view. The pod, to Shiro’s absolute shock, can really book it.

He barely has time to register the emptiness of space around him before alarms blare in the pod. He’s approaching something, way too fast. His hand reaches for the controls, but he pauses before he can touch anything. Keith and Pidge _had_ made it seem like he would get to Lance mid-flight. The collision course is probably exactly as planned.

And then, to Shiro’s surprise, a new voice fills the pod. “Whoever you are, you’re coming in too hot.”

 _Lance_.

He chokes, not sure what to say. Not sure how he would even _transmit_ to Lance’s ship.

“Dude, seriously. You’re going to crash into my ship.”

Shiro stays quiet. If Lance knows he’s the one in the pod, then he’ll have no chance.

“Dammit,” Lance curses. A blue light surrounds the pod, and Shiro is nearly thrown forward with the force from it slowing abruptly. The lights inside the pod shut off, either because they’d shorted out or because it registered that he’d hit safety. Even so, Shiro doesn’t touch anything. He’s so close; he’s not going to risk it.

The pod gets pulled into the ship. It floats there for a few moments before Shiro hears the slam of the door shut behind him and the pod drops. Immediately he hits the button to open the glass and climbs out.

All his limbs are shaking. He rests his cybernetic hand on the pod, holding himself upright as he tries to pull himself together. He never, _ever_ wants to do something like that again.

The distinct sound of the door opening reaches his ears, but Shiro doesn’t even have time to straighten up before Lance walks in. Instead, he manages to raise his head in time to see Lance freeze.

“Shiro?” He asks, soft and small. He’s holding a gun loosely in his hand, pointing it at the ground rather than at him.

Shiro stands up completely, keeping his hand on the pod. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

Finally, Shiro takes a step forward. His movement brings Lance back to himself, and immediately Shiro is greeted with the familiar sight of a gun pointed right at him. “Answer the question.”

Shiro freezes, holding his hands up in surrender. “I couldn’t let you get your sister alone.”

“Really? Because you seemed perfectly fine to condemn both of us to death not that long ago.”

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Shiro starts, walking forward again. “And I know that I’ve done nothing but make things hard for you. But Lance, please. Let me help.”

Lance’s grip on the gun tightens. Shiro’s gambling here, risking his life on the thread of a memory. “Don’t come any closer.”

Shiro ignores it, continuing to close the gap between them. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

“I mean it! Stop where you are!” Lance shouts, gun shaking in his hand.

“Please. Let me help.”

Shiro’s so close he can see the tears forming in the corner of Lance’s eyes. So close the gun is pressed against his chest. He closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around Lance and praying that he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Lance. Please.”

“No…” Lance protests, but the grip on his gun falters. It clatters to the ground between them, and Shiro exhales, pulling Lance into his chest.

He lets Lance cry against him, stroking his back in an attempt to comfort him. He never should’ve left. He should’ve come up with a plan, an alternative earlier. Then things wouldn’t be this bad.

“I’m sorry,” he says after Lance’s breathing steadies. “I never should’ve left.”

“No,” Lance argues. “I never should’ve agreed to work for the Galra.”

When they separate, Lance wipes his face with his sleeves. He bends down and grabs his gun, holstering it. “How did you find me?”

“I crashed on a planet. Apparently you know my brother.” Lance frowns, clearly confused, so Shiro clarifies. “Keith.”

To his surprise, Lance laughs. “Wow. Rotten luck, huh?”

“I don’t think so. Got me back to you.”

“I meant for him. That guy’s been trying to avoid me for forever. Doesn’t really answer my question though.”

“He contacted some friends of yours. A Hunk and Pidge?” The names are still a little strange to him, but Lance grins.

“I knew they were keeping in contact with him.” He shrugs. “So they got you back here?”

“Something like that.”

Lance nods. Before he can say anything else though, Shiro speaks up. “Pidge doesn’t think the Galra will give you back your sister, even if you turn me in.”

All signs of happiness fade immediately from Lance’s face at the words. “Yeah. I don’t think so either.”

Shiro bites back the question of _then why would you try_. He already knows the answer. He already knows what he’d do for Keith.

The semblance of a plan starts to form in his mind, but he has to check anyway. “What were you planning to do when you got there?”

Lance shrugs, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t have a plan. I figured I’d rather be killed or captured trying to do something than live knowing I did nothing.”

The door to the cockpit opens and Lance leads them in. He takes a seat, and Shiro hovers to the side. “You were going to sacrifice yourself?”

“Of course. She’s my family, Shiro. I’d do anything for her.”

He takes a knee, grabbing one of Lance’s hands and pulling his attention. “Then please, trust in me. I have an idea.”

\---

The plan takes a few days to form, to work out the details. Shiro is insistent that they get help from the others, but Lance refuses to give in. They eventually come to an agreement: they’ll only contact Hunk, Pidge, and Keith. The three of them will act exclusively as backup, at Lance’s request. Shiro doesn’t like it, but it’s the compromise he needs to make in order to get Lance to accept any help at all.

And also because Keith won’t stop calling Lance’s ship now that he knows how to get a hold of it.

“I swear, if I knew you were Keith’s brother, I wouldn’t have taken the offer,” Lance gripes after they finally come to an agreement with Keith and the others.

Shiro just stands, holding his hands out to Lance to cuff. Hopefully for the last time. “Thank you,” Lance says, clapping the cuffs around his wrists. “Seriously. Thank you.”

Shiro grabs his hand before Lance can walk away. “Be careful.”

Lance smiles softly at him, gently cupping Shiro’s face with his palm. “I’m always careful.”

It’s a lie, Shiro knows, but somehow it works. He nods as Lance backs away. He’s back in the cage, hopefully also for the last time. Lance opens his mouth, as if to say something, but instead he shakes his head and closes the door, locking Shiro in the cage once again.

He stays there, trying to be patient as they approach the Galra prison where Lance is meant to drop him off. Shiro focuses on his breathing, keeping it calm as he runs through the plan over and over and over again. They’ve been over it a thousand times, but that doesn’t make him any less worried.

One false move and it would be over for both of them. He can’t afford a mistake.

The ship jerks as it slows, jolting Shiro out of his thoughts. It’s time.

The worst part of his portion of the plan – of him being the decoy – is that he has no idea what’s happening outside his cage. He feels the ship slowing, feels it stop, but aside from that he’s not privy to anything else. Everything could be going exactly as planned, or Lance could already be captured, the plan already gone wrong.

He won’t know until the door opens.

Shiro stands, posture tense as he waits. Either the door will open and Lance will be there, in which case he needs to be prepared to play his part, or it will be a bunch of Galra alone, meaning Lance was taken captive and he’s going to need to fight his way out. Whichever it is, he needs to be prepared.

He twitches when the door slides open. _Lance_. Oh thank god. He forces the glare to remain on his face, reminding himself that, until Lance gives the signal, he has to pretend to hate him. “Told you I had him,” Lance says to the Galra that follow in immediately after. “I know better than to come empty handed.”

The Galra who appears to be the leader grunts. “Whatever, smuggler. Step aside while we detain him.”

Lance blocks the Galra’s progress, keeping his back to Shiro. “I don’t think so. This is my bounty, and I’ll be damned if someone else takes credit for it.”

“You’ve been spotted transporting black market goods in and out of the empire. You’re lucky you’re not under arrest. Now, step aside.”

But Lance doesn’t move. “No way. Sendak specifically asked me to bring the prisoner to him. If you don’t believe me, you can radio him to ask.”

That seems to be enough to make the Galra stop. He frowns, fingers twitching. For a moment, Shiro’s terrified he’s going to take Lance out, ruining their plan before they can get any further. But then the Galra grits his teeth, turning away. “Very well. Fetch the prisoner and follow me.”

And now, Shiro needs to play his part. He fixes his glare on Lance when he turns, approaching the cage. “Stay where you are, prisoner,” Lance addresses. “Remember what happened last time you tried to escape.”

Shiro stays still, forcing anger to take over his face as Lance enters the cage. Lance points his blaster at Shiro and nods towards the entrance. “You heard him. Chop, chop.”

Shiro grunts but walks forward. Almost immediately, Lance’s blaster is pressed to his back. He knows Lance won’t shoot it, but it’s still a heady feeling.

The Galra leads the two of them off the ship, and they’re immediately flanked by droids. The entire party marches through the giant ship bay into the hall. Shiro’s eyes dart left and right, gauging the surroundings.

The Galra turns right, opening a door into another room. Lance and Shiro are ushered inside, but the droids remain outside. Keeping guard, most likely. Inside the room is a second Galra, seated at a console. He looks up as soon as the three of them enter, and immediately banish the screens from view.

The first thing Shiro notices about him is his right eye, perfectly round and mechanical. It glows, standing out against his fur. When the Galra stands, Shiro sees how much bigger he is than the other Galra, especially his left shoulder and arm. Which is also mechanical. This is going to make things a little harder.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lance McClain.” The Galra, who could only be Sendak, steps out from behind his console. “And you brought me a prize.”

Lance tenses. Even with the plan, some things can’t be accounted for. “I held up my end of the bargain. Where’s my sister?”

“Not so fast, smuggler. How do I know this isn’t some plan of yours? I know you work for the rebels.”

Lance’s shoulders tense almost unperceptively. “I know the risk of coming here. Where’s my sister?”

“Haxus,” Sendak instructs.

Before Shiro can react, something grabs him. He’s flipped around and lands flat on his back, cuffs removed. “The cuffs weren’t activated,” the other Galra says, dropping the worthless cuffs on the ground.

Shiro clenches his fingers, squeezing his pinky and index fingers together as he forms a fist. “Arrest them,” Sendak remarks.

Time speeds up. Shiro jumps up, punching the Galra square in the face. He runs before anything can stop him, charging Sendak. Shiro activates his arm as he leaps over the console. Sendak jumps out of the way, and Shiro slices through the console instead.

Two blasts sound from behind him. Shiro ducks just in time for Sendak’s cyborg arm to swing over his head. He hears the lasers hit Sendak’s armor with twin clangs. Shiro jumps out of the way as Sendak karate chops down at him, splitting the console in half. His arm is bigger, stronger than Shiro’s own.

They need help.

A cry comes from his left, and Shiro looks over in time to see Lance fall, clutching his side. “Lance!” He shouts, forgetting that he’s also mid-battle. A heavy metallic hand thuds against his head, and Shiro’s tossed across the room, skidding to a stop next to Lance.

“You fool,” Sendak tells him, stepping forward. “You think we would really relinquish her in exchange for a prisoner?”

“Lance.” Shiro crawls over to Lance. He’s curled around himself, clutching his side. Red is already dripping between his fingers. “Lance.”

“You rebels are easily manipulated,” Sendak tells them. Shiro feels the metal hand wrap around his shoulder before he’s dragged away from Lance. “You really think, even if I had your sister, I would let you have her back?”

Shiro’s breath catches. “What?” He asks.

But Sendak just kicks Lance in the stomach. Lance lets out a sound of pain that Shiro hopes to never hear again. He struggles upright, fighting against the pain in his head. “Where’s his sister?”

A foot collides with the space between his shoulders, and Shiro stumbles forward onto his hands. Fuck, his head _really_ hurts. “Stay down, gladiator,” The Galra from before instructs.

This is it. They came this far for nothing. Shiro focuses his gaze on Lance, bleeding out in front of his eyes, and there’s nothing he can do to help. They’re both going to die here. And for what? Because apparently, the Galra never even _had_ Lance’s sister.

“Thank you for returning our stolen goods,” Sendak remarks, raising his hand. He’s going to kill Lance, right in front of Shiro.

He can’t let that happen.

Shiro fights against the pain, activating his hand once more as he struggles into a kneel. He lets out a roar and charges Sendak.

At that moment, two things happen:

The ship rumbles, sending Shiro tilting down, falling beside Lance once more. Sendak loses his balance, stumbling a few steps as he tries to stay upright. Shiro hears a metallic screech and grabs Lance in time for the second thing.

A ship crashes through the wall.

He has Lance cradled against his chest as it does, holding him as the world around them tilts. The door to the ship opens, and someone Shiro doesn’t recognize – a large human – steps out. “Come on!” He yells, and Shiro immediately recognizes his voice as Hunk’s. “Hurry!”

Shiro gathers his remaining energy and pulls Lance into his arms. He struggles upright and stumbles over to the entrance. Once he gets close enough, Hunk grabs him and pulls the two of them inside.

“Keith! I have them! Hurry!”

The doors close behind them and the ship rumbles. Hunk helps the two of them make their way into the cockpit before Shiro collapses. Lance is still bleeding, but Hunk takes him the rest of the way to the co-pilot’s chair, setting him down. He immediately crouches down and starts bandaging Lance’s stomach.

Shiro leans wearily against the wall, watching things unfold through the window. Keith flies fast, dodging and weaving as he navigates them through the hole in the ship he made. It’s too fast for Shiro to keep up with, but somehow they make it out of the prison ship unscathed.

“Keith!” Pidge’s voice blares through the cockpit. “Behind you!”

Keith flips the ship around so fast Shiro has to close his eyes. When he opens them next, they’re facing the ship. And a whole fleet of Galra ships are flying out towards them. They’re vastly outnumbered. Shiro doesn’t see them making it out of this alive.

“Lance?” Hunk’s voice is panicked.

Shiro looks over just in time to see Lance leaning forward, unwisely, gripping onto one of the controls. A flash of light erupts from their ship, flying straight towards the open bay the ships are flying out of. It disappears for a moment before light explodes out of it.

“Hold on!” Keith shouts.

The ship flips again, and Shiro is forced back against the wall. Stars whoosh past them, faster than should be possible, and the next thing he knows he hears a boom and they’re gone. Part relieved, part still worried over Lance, Shiro’s shoulders slump. His head _hurts_. He doesn’t think he can keep his eyes open any longer.

They grow heavy, each blink lasting longer than the last. He keeps his gaze trained on the back of Lance’s head until darkness consumes him.

\---

The next time Shiro opens his eyes, he’s greeted by a white light. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the light until he gets used to the brightness on the other side of his lids. This time, when he blinks them open, it’s less severe.

His surroundings are white, sterile. It reminds him of the hospitals back on Earth. He brings his hands to his eyes, meaning to rub the sleep from them, but pauses. His arm. It’s…different. The metallic cybernetic arm has been replaced by a white and purple version, sleeker than the other. It’s the same size as his human one. Shiro turns it this way and that, spreading his fingers before clenching them in a fist with barely a thought. It moves the way his human one does, even more so than the old Galra arm. Despite the color and texture, it somehow manages to _look_ human too – a feat the old arm never managed.

He sits upright at that, looking around himself. He’s in a bed which must be somehow connected to several machines. Floating blue screens behind him display readings in a language he doesn’t recognize. So far nothing seems to mean him harm, but Shiro knows better than to trust appearances.

He struggles out of the bed, feet slipping on the tile floor. He slides out, nearly falling, but catches himself on the bed. He needs to figure out where he is. He needs to get out. Find Lance.

The door opens behind him, and Shiro looks around. Someone he doesn’t recognize walks towards him. Aside from the ears and face tattoos, he could be human. His hair is orange, and he has a matching bushy moustache. “Ah, good to see you awake!” The man declares.

Shiro leans back, focusing on activating his arm. It doesn’t work. He holds it in front of himself anyway, ready to attack if necessary.

“No need to look like that. You were brought here by Hunk and Keith. I can assure you, you’re safe from the Galra here.”

He relaxes slightly, but still doesn’t quite trust it. “Where’s Lance?”

The man taps his chin. “I believe he’s resting. He just woke up about a varga ago.”

Shiro has no idea what a varga is, nor does he care. What he does care about is making sure they both got out safe. “Take me to him.”

“That’s not such a good idea. You’re still recovering from several –“

“Take. Me. To. Him.”

The man sighs, drawing his hand down his face. “Very well. Follow me.”

He helps Shiro walk down the hallway. They pass doors on either side along the way, reinforcing Shiro’s thought that this is a hospital. The man stops in front of one, indistinguishable from the others. “He’s inside,” he informs Shiro as he opens the door.

Shiro takes a few steps forward, entering the dim room. He barely registers the door sliding shut behind him.

Lance is lying on his back in the bed in front of them, appearing asleep. Shiro nearly trips as he covers the distance between them, kneeling beside the bed. He looks peaceful, chest rising and falling steadily. Even so, Shiro places two fingers on his neck, measuring Lance’s pulse.

Lance’s eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times before turning his head. To Shiro’s surprise, he smiles when their gazes meet. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“They told me you were still recovering from the arm replacement.”

Shiro glances down, flexing his new fingers. “It’s different.”

“It’s Altean.” Lance laughs at his expression. “They’re the people leading the rebellion. Apparently their technology’s a big deal. You should be honored, according to Pidge.”

He nods. “Everyone made it out safe?”

“Yeah. Despite Keith’s piloting, that is.”

“And your sister?”

Lance turns his head back to the ceiling, frowning. “Sendak wasn’t lying about that. The rebellion checked. My family hasn’t been touched.”

Shiro hums, sympathetically. “That’s good news.”

Lance’s fingers clench around the sheets. “Not really.”

“Why not? Your sister’s safe. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes. Of course. It’s just…” He hesitates. “They manipulated me so easily.”

“Lance.” Shiro reaches out, grabbing Lance’s hand in both of his own. “It’s not your fau –“

“It is!” Lance rips his hand away, using them to pull at his hair instead. “I kidnapped you for nothing! Don’t you…don’t you hate me?”

Shiro stands, leaning over the bed. He takes Lance’s hands and peels them gently away from his hair. “No. I don’t.”

And before Lance can argue with him the way Shiro knows he wants to, he leans down and seals their lips together.

Lance doesn’t struggle, doesn’t push away. Quite the opposite. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck and tugs him down, forcing Shiro to stumble and break them apart. Lance looks like he’s about to apologize, so Shiro climbs onto the bed and leans in for another kiss.

He knows how hot it can get, how intoxicated he can become from kissing Lance. But they’re both recovering still, and Shiro doesn’t want to risk them being walked in on. So he keeps their embrace short and pure.

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” he swears, stroking Lance’s cheek with his fingers. It’s as soft as he remembers.

“Even though I kidnapped you?”

“Especially because you kidnapped me.”

Lance cups his hand around Shiro’s fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You already have,” Shiro assures him. “But I’m sure we’ll come up with something if you insist.”

Lance chuckles. “Sounds like you have a few ideas in mind.”

“I do.”

“Hate to break it to you, Champion, but I don’t think I’m up for physical activity anytime soon.”

This time, Shiro’s the one who laughs. “That can wait. I was thinking something more like letting me join you.”

“Wait,” Lance face sobers. “I thought you wanted to be free. Joining the rebellion will just increase the bounty on your head.”

“I know,” Shiro agrees. “But the bounty won’t disappear anyway. If I’m really the champion you make me out to be, then I should do something. Running away won’t help anyone.”

“Are you sure?”

Shiro leans in, planting another soft kiss on Lance’s lips. “Yes. I’m sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you notice the moment the hunter became the hunted? ;)
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rinthegreat_ao3) to see what I'm up to and how to support me!
> 
> [Reblog Kuiper's art](https://kuiperdraws.tumblr.com/post/167023525316/hey-guys-i-participated-in-the-voltronbigbang) and follow them on [Tumblr](https://kuiperdraws.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kuiperdraws)  
> [Reblog Neroli's art](https://oligreyart.tumblr.com/post/167023201703/this-is-the-art-for-the-hunter-by-rinthegreat-for) and follow them on [Tumblr](https://oligreyart.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NeroliGrim)
> 
> And finally, please head over to thislittlekumquat's [Twitter](https://twitter.com/waffledemon) and send her a huge thank you for betaing this! She did this despite all the crap in her life and I cannot be more grateful for her. <3


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